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Sweep the hand.

Dan:

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So when I was on the freshmen football team in HS, we had a scrimmage with another freshmen team that was really good.

We had 2 "coaches" who were former "greats" turned college-dropout juicehead assholes who would come to our practices as unpaid assistant coaches only to find them using it as an excuse to flirt with cheerleaders 10 years younger than them.

Anyways, the team we scrimmaged had some stand-out future D1 nose tackle whose father played at USC or something and, given this was only freshmen year, this kid was a beast. He was stuffing runs, getting ridiculous numbers of sacks, etc and he was HUGE to boot.

Obviously, our two brilliant coaches didn't like us being embarrassed on our home field during a scrimmage and decided to put an end to this kid's game and possibly his career. Maybe they were jealous of his potential or maybe they just wanted to see someone cry, but they were sure going to get their way that day.

So they grab two of our bigger lineman and devise an ingenious plan in which one of them chop blocks the kid and while the kid is on the ground, the other TO STOMP ON HIS HAND AS HARD AS HE CAN.

I don't remember exactly when it happened, but I do remember hearing the blood curling scream of the kid as 11 bones shattered in his hand. I'll never forget the sight of this beast of a kid being helped off the field holding the mangled remains of his hand as the two coaches snickered in amusement and patted themselves on the back for a job well done. I heard later that the kid had permanent damage in his hand and was never able to play football again. Excellent job, coaches.

Surely there's an Urban Dictionary term for this.

Sotheby:

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The two most successful D-III hockey coaches of the last 20 years, who coach at colleges 70 miles apart in Vermont, have had a personal feud that goes back almost 40 years to their time at UNH. The story is that Mike McShane, who was and is known as a bit of a cocksucker, decided to prank the newest hotshot member of the ‘70-‘71 Wildcat hockey team, a sophomore (remember, this was when freshman weren't allowed to play varsity) named Bill Beaney.

Instead of the regular hazing rituals, such as itch powder in the jock or tape on the bottom of the skate blades, McShane decided to leave a particularly nefarious and highly unsanitary joke; he took a shit in Beaney's skates. The next day at practice Beaney loaded his bare toes into the front of his skate, only to have his digits greeted by the stinky deposit, and a Duellists-level obsession began.

To this day, through something like 70 matches against each other over the years, they continue to skip the customary post-game hand shake.

KUNG FU HIPPIE

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Carlos:

I was playing on a Babe Ruth League (13-15 year olds) team in the L.A. area. One of our assistant coaches was a typical Southern California, mid-1980s burnout type–about 30, tall and skinny, with long, dirty blond hair and a thin beard. He always wore sunglasses and always seemed stoned (he probably was) - sort of a skinny, less charismatic Jeffrey Lebowski.

Kevin and I were the main pitchers on the team and were taking turns throwing off the mound during pre-season practice one Saturday morning while the coach gave us pointers. Kevin was a real smartass, punk teenager and didn't respect the coach. After the coach gave him some advice Kevin muttered, "Whatever, you dumb hippie" under his breath. The coach heard it and called him on it. Kevin didn't back down though, and got in a full-on argument with the coach and made it clear he didn't respect him, even going so far as to tell the coach he could kick his ass.

The coach told Kevin to shut up because he (coach) was a black belt in karate, to which Kevin replied, "like hell you are." After a couple second pause, the coach jumped up, did a 360, and kicked Kevin's baseball cap off the top of his head, coming within an inch or two of kicking Kevin's face with his beat up Converse All Star high tops. It was really fucking spectacular and I couldn't believe what I had seen. Kevin and I just stood there for about 10 seconds with stunned looks on our faces, then Kevin picked his cap up off the ground and resumed pitching. Kevin didn't talk shit to the hippie coach after that.

It's Henri, the coach who's going to steal your girlfriend!

Anonymous:

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This story takes place circa 2004.

One of my teammates in college was dating this girl, and one night they decided to go out for some drinks at a local bar. This girl had some trust/jealousy issues and became very upset that her boyfriend was talking to other girls at the bar. They end up going back to his house where the girlfriend flips out about him talking to these other girls and is later seen outside of the house trying to smash his car windows.

The next day at practice, my teammate is standing in the outfield during batting practice telling everyone about the previous night's festivities. Somewhere during his rant, one of our coaches enters the discussion and proceeds to provide his input. Coach says that he has to get rid of her because you can't be dating a girl that's crazy like that. So my teammate follows our coach's advice and gets rid of her. About three weeks later its rumored that our coach is now dating this girl. It turns out to be true, and here we are six years later and Coach ended up marrying her.

Honestly, what coach steals one of their players' girlfriends?

That reminds me of a story. I once went a school where one of the teachers was confronted by a female student after class. The female student told this teacher, "I love you. I've always loved you." So the teacher said this to her:

"I can't date you while you're a student! Uh… Come back after you graduate."

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And she did. And they got married a few years thereafter. These teachers and coaches, they're all underage pussy hounds, I tell you!